Fortune's Dearest Spite
by Kneel To The Left
Summary: Light and Dark. Two opposites of the same coin. Two halves of the same earth. What happens when Regina and Emma's magic seeks each other out for balance? SQ and the way OUAT is going in my head instead of the actual show.
1. Prologue

The world was ending.

Emma could feel it underneath her feet. The glaciers were shifting, the poles were turning, and the earth was literally rotating off its axis.

Storybrooke was lost. Their entire world was lost.

_She_ had won and there was nothing to stop her now.

Emma choked on the blood the filled her mouth. Her internal organs were bruised, and she was half sure that her ruptured ribs had sliced into her lung. Breathing was becoming far more difficult than it should.

The Saviour, they called her. They put their trust in her. Snow. David. Ruby. Leroy. They believed in her with all their hearts and souls to lead them to salvation. Which was why it was even more devastating when she failed them.

Her last thoughts shifted to Regina and Henry and the pain amplified tenfold.

She failed them. Her family.

The air was shifting all at once. Her burning lungs sought to fill themselves with the air it desperately need. She breathed hard through her mouth and tasted the cold metallic air with that faint tang of iron.

_Blood_. She realized. It wasn't her blood. She didn't know where it came from but prayed to any existing deity that listened, and prayed that this wasn't the blood of the people she loved.

She turned from the ground and saw the woman who caused all of this.

This was her doing. The core of her corrupted soul and poisoned magic was now seeping through into their sleepy little town in all its vengeful wrath and glory.

She looked across the destroyed streets and saw her. That woman. She'd once taken everything before and she was doing it again.

Even from her own daughter.

The figure that lay in front of her was still and lifeless. Her beautiful face relaxed as her eyes remained shut as if she was in nothing more than a blissful sleep.

But Emma knew better. She knew better but she wouldn't admit the truth.

No, she couldn't have been dead.

Not now. Not after everything.

If she couldn't save anything, she would at least save _her_.

So with that, the Saviour stood on her aching feet and felt the movement force more blood out of her throat.

She would make one last stand. One last stand to get her back.

Her enemy gazed at her like a snake would to an ant.

Amused and pitying.

Anger burst through Emma like a raging fire, setting a scorching path of vengeance into every cell of her body until it reached her heart.

Yes, she was letting the darkness taint her. The power was addicting. Strong. It was what she needed to win.

As her irises turned into a frightful glow of silver, she rejoiced internally over the fear she saw in the eyes of her opponent.

Her enemy.

_Her prey_.

Emma grinned and felt the electricity cackle underneath her fingertips, dancing to the ground like nymphs to a forest tune but it was death, and destruction that clung to her like a blanket as the foreboding howling winds sang in awe of her newfound abilities.

A dark sneer touched her lips, and Emma's voice sounded different. Deeper. Echoing into the caverns of all corners of the earth as she spoke.

"You _will not_ take her from me."


	2. Shared Dreams

_It's always the same_, Emma thinks. _The same nightmare_, her mind whispers but the truth was she wasn't sure if it really was a nightmare anymore. A small part of her sensed that it felt more like a premonition of some sort but questioning the works and origins of magic always made her head hurt so instead, she gurgled down another glass of water as she takes a seat around the table in the middle of Ma-_Snow's_, she corrects herself, _Snow White's apartment_.

Wild, tangled blonde hair flows behind her back, her upper body hunched over the table with one arm placed along the edge while the others around the glass that she's thumbing at nervously.

Her brain tries to recall the dream, remember the details but it's always a blur when she wakes up. It was like someone just ricocheted her subconscious into her body, a force of being that didn't want her delving any further. She rubs at the sides of her head frustrated. All she can really recall is the sense of loss she feels whenever she wakes up, with her hand in the air, reaching for something that always just beyond her fingertips yet miles away.

She hears Neal snoring from Snow's couch and ignores the irritation she feels. Having the son of Gold/Rumpelstiltskin, getting to know her _son_ was not something she wanted but she didn't have a choice.

Once Neal found out that he was Henry's biological father, his own subconscious need to prove himself to be a better father than the one he was raised by made him return to Storybrooke with Gold being unnaturally quiet along the entire drive.

Henry however, had taken to completely to him, repeatedly asking him inane questions and Neal for his part, answered with good humour and ease.

She had driven with Gold in the front seat the entire way back, had felt slightly rejected and upset over how Henry had immediately discarded her once he found someone _new_.

She suddenly felt a wave of empathy for Regina when she glanced at the rear-view mirror and saw how animated her son looked as he conversed with his _dad_.

It was almost annoying how easily he handed him that title. Especially considering the Evil Queen had been more of a parent to him than this _stranger_. Yet he completely pushed her aside, casting her to be a villain of his play without so much as a care over how he was hurting her.

_Like a child playing with dolls_, Emma thought bitterly.

It had been a week since Neal had crashed at Emma's place. He had chosen the couch as his domain of slumber until he could find a place for himself, something Emma emphasised with absolute clarity that he needed to do.

Despite his snores, Emma's thoughts wandered back to the dream she just had.

She groaned as that tiny little image flickered back to her.

Lips. Skin. Moans. Touch. Fingers.

And a certain dark-haired woman looking down at her with such love and devotion that Emma felt her heart break in the dream.

She knew there was more to it than that but that was the only piece Emma truly remembered. And as if her body wanted proof of it, she always rose out of bed with a familiar ache between her legs, her wetness pooling between her legs while she rubbed her thighs together, trying not to let her hormones get the best of her.

But as usual, it always failed.

She bit her lower lip and glanced across the apartment. Henry was still asleep in her bed, Snow and James were dead in their bed, cuddled close to each other as they slept and Neal was out like a light.

Slowly, she stood up and made her way to the bathroom, locking it behind her in a soft click. She pulled the lighter from a drawer and lit up a vanilla scented candle.

She didn't want the obvious bright bulb to burn her memory with what she was about to do.

When she finally undressed, her tongue unconsciously darted out, searching for invisible flesh as her fingers finally gave comfort to the painful ache between her legs.

She was already so wet.

She moaned as the tip of her middle finger teased her hole, opening and ready to be filled. Moving up, she circled her engorged clit, and spread her wetness over her folds.

She thought of those eyes again, those lips parted as her dream lover stared longingly at her. Hungrily.

She moaned and quickly covered her mouth with her other hand, her hot breath pressing into her palm as her movements grew quicker.

The wild, delicious brunette filling her cunt with much needed friction.

Thrusting.

Filling.

Stretching.

"Oh god," Emma mumbled as the pleasure overtook her senses, no longer caring that she was thinking of someone she really shouldn't have been as she did this.

She curled her fingers, hitting the spot that gave her body a jolt as she nearly shot off the toilet seat, her hips sliding off the cold thermoplastic lid.

"More," she whispered into the empty air as her fingers drove inside of her harder. Faster.

Finally, her mind threw at her the image of that beautiful, exotic woman licking at her lower lip and whispering 'cum for me'.

And she did. Her body shook in spasms, shuddering out of control and she had to bite down on her lower hand to keep her groans silent as she rode out her orgasm.

When she finally calmed, she pulled out her fingers, leaving a delicious tremor in their absence as Emma stared at her cum coated fingers.

_God, what is wrong with me… _she thought to herself until she finally got up and washed her hands, finally able to go back to bed now that her body was sated.

And blocks away from Snow White's apartment, the once proud mayor of Storybrooke was biting into her pillow, her lean, toned body turned over in her large bed, her knees digging into her mattress with her face buried in silk and satin while fingers furiously curled in and out of her.

She moaned softly, groaning in agony as her climax approached her.

_Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma_, she thought repeatedly until finally her body contracted, her hips bucking into her fingers, pulling her in like a greedy mouth as she screamed into her pillow, shaking sporadically as a calm settled over her. Like clouds parting in the sea after a hurricane.

She breathed hard and finally pulled out her fingers, biting her lower lip at the loss and swung an arm over her head.

_I HATE that dream_, she thought angrily, completely choosing to ignore what she'd just done afterwards as she willed herself to sleep.

Her last thought before she slept, was that she tasted a fading aroma of vanilla.

* * *

**Oh my, fluff. **

**I hate writing stuff like this. I get too distracted with images of blonde beauties and brunette goddesses that I have to **_**force**_** myself to remember, 'oh right… what was the story again?'**


End file.
